I am Harry Potter's Cousin, Big D

Although the platinum-haired boy's question was phrased as a question, his tone was one of absolute certainty. Clearly, he had already confirmed Harry's identity before arriving. Flanking him were two short, chubby figures, one on each side like a pair of thuggish door guardians. It was worth mentioning that both of them were particularly ugly.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the boy said, gesturing dismissively at his two followers. He then introduced himself in a condescending, sing-song drawl: "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Dudley had attended a few so-called upper-class society parties for business, and he remembered a man who claimed to be a viscount's descendant using this exact tone. Unfortunately, coming from a boy so young, it wasn't convincing. It was simply comical. Ron had to cough lightly to keep from laughing out loud.

Malfoy squinted, glancing at Ron out of the corner of his eye. "Think my name's funny, do you?" His voice dripped with disdain. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Even the slow-witted Neville could hear the overwhelming sense of superiority in Malfoy's tone. He wanted to say something to defend Ron, but one look at the two 'door guardians' flanking Malfoy, and his natural timidity took over. He swallowed the words he was about to say.

After thoroughly mocking Ron, Malfoy turned his attention back to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," he said. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you with that." His gaze casually swept over Ron and Neville. The compartment was so crowded that, due to the angle, he didn't even notice Dudley and Hermione. He then extended a pale, slender hand to Harry, a gesture that was less of a friendly handshake and more of a condescending offer, as if he were bestowing a great favor.

'I was too hasty,' Dudley thought. 'When it comes to not knowing how to talk, I, Dudley, will call you the strongest.' If Hermione's tone could be slightly uncomfortable, Malfoy's was pure, unadulterated mockery.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry replied, his voice cold. He had no intention of shaking Malfoy's hand. Ron had just praised Dudley, while this boy had mocked him at the robe shop. As long as someone praised Dudley, they were Harry's brother. And those who mocked him...

Malfoy's pale cheeks flushed a faint pink. He obviously hadn't expected to be rejected so decisively, so disrespectfully. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he drawled, his voice slow and menacing, mimicking his father's tone. "You should be polite. Otherwise, you'll end up the same way your parents did. If you hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys, you'll be dragged down with them." He didn't mention Neville; even he knew better than to insult the Longbottoms. Neville's grandmother, Augusta, was a famously ill-tempered and powerful witch.

At the vicious insult, both Harry and Ron shot to their feet. Neville hesitated for a moment, then stood up as well. Malfoy's two large door guardians, Crabbe and Goyle, immediately stepped in front of him.

"Why are you so unpleasant?" Hermione, whose straightforward personality meant she couldn't stay silent in the face of such nastiness, finally spoke up.

Malfoy noticed her for the first time. After sizing her up with a dismissive glance, he sneered, "And where did you crawl out from?" Ignoring her, he continued to mock Harry. "Potter, I didn't expect you to gather a bunch of freaks around you so quickly..."

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," Dudley's low voice cut through Malfoy's tirade, "I'll give you a piece of advice. If you can't imitate how others speak, don't even try. It just makes you look like a fool."

"It's Draco Malfoy to you," Malfoy snapped angrily, turning towards the source of the voice. And then he saw the face that had already left such a deep, humiliating impression on him. "Oh," he squeaked, reflexively stumbling backward. "It's you!" It was the boy who had made him run crying from the robe shop. The memory made his pale face turn a furious shade of red. It was a disgrace!

"Crabbe, Goyle," he snarled, "teach him a lesson!"

The two little fat boys immediately charged towards Dudley. The next second, they were both lifted off the ground, one in each of Dudley's hands like a pair of misbehaving kittens. He slammed them together like two fleshy pancakes, and they instantly crumpled, their fighting spirit extinguished. Dudley's raw physical strength was more than enough to handle anyone at Hogwarts.

Malfoy, who had not expected his bodyguards to be dealt with so easily, was so scared that he fell onto the floor. Dudley slowly walked over to him and leaned down, his face uncomfortably close to the terrified boy's.

"Listen," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Harry's parents are my aunt and uncle. Insulting them is insulting me. I can forgive your ignorance this time, but I don't want there to be a next time. From today on, we are classmates. I hope we can get along well in the future. Okay?"

What else could Malfoy say? He nodded frantically, a stark contrast to his previous arrogant demeanor.

"Take your two friends and go."

The three of them scrambled away, disappearing down the corridor.

"Cool!" Ron exclaimed, an indescribable sense of satisfaction washing over him. The rivalry between the Weasleys and the Malfoys was legendary.

Just then, a vendor pushing a cart full of sweets passed by. Harry, feeling flush with his newfound wealth, waved his hand and bought one of everything. Soon, their table was piled high with all kinds of magical candies.

"Why didn't you beat them up properly?" Ron asked, his mouth full of candy. Like Neville, he unconsciously used polite language when speaking to Dudley.

Harry opened a box of Chocolate Frogs, and one of the little creatures leaped out. Just as it was about to escape through the window, Dudley snatched it out of the air with lightning-fast reflexes. No food could escape his presence.

"I hate using violence directly," Dudley said, popping the chocolate frog into his mouth. "It's too crude. I prefer to subdue people with virtue."

Ron vigorously dug at his ears, certain he had misheard. Looking at Dudley's steel-like teeth and listening to the monstrous "crunch, crunch" of him chewing, Ron shivered. Hates violence? he thought. Somehow, that's not very convincing.

(End of Chapter)

***

(End of Chapter)

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